The Masks We Wear
by Erika Dyer
Summary: When Erik's estranged father dies, he believes he will finally recieve what is rightfully his. When he is forced to split the money with a woman he detests he is enraged, and even more so when he realises he will have to live with her for 6 months EC
1. A mother's dying wish

_When Erik's estranged father dies, he believes he will finally recieve what is rightfully his. When he is forced to split the money with a woman he has detests he is enraged, and even more so when he reasises he will have to live with her for 6 months in order to see any of the money. _

_Chapter 1- A mother's dying wish. _

_England-1975._

Gerard Destler stood outside the closed door, hands in his pockets, and his eyes closed against the agonised screams emanating from the room, his handsome face screwed up in agony. He could not take any more of this, and if it wasn't over within the next few minutes he was going to go in there, and he didn't care what they all thought. He couldn't even begin to imagine the pain his wife Emilia was going through, and if he could he would have happily taken on that pain himself. Of course that was impossible, and he was left stood outside in the corridor, whilst she birthed their child. The midwife had ushered him outside a few minutes earlier, insisting that his anger and panic were not helping anything. After glancing at Emilia, his eyes wide in fear, she had acceded, and allowed him to escape. Much as he loved her, he couldn't take staying in there to witness her pain. It was far better to stay outside where he wouldn't have to witness the event.

Gerard could not ever begin to contemplate what he would do if he lost Emilia. She was the only woman he had ever loved and though he knew he was far from what she deserved, she loved him back. What made this even more unbelievable was that she knew everything about him. His dark and sordid past was not a secret to Emilia and yet it did not change her feelings for him. He was a lucky man and though he knew this fact, he knew he did not appreciate his wife as much as she should be. If he lost her this night he did not know how he would cope.

This was taking far too long, he thought desperately, as he began to pace down the corridor once more. His hair must be sticking up in every direction due to his constant rubbing with his hands, but for once he didn't care. He hated this feeling of helplessness and lack of power. Gerard was a man used to getting what he wanted and controlling those around him to do just that. This was the first time that he could remember not being able to manipulate the circumstances and he did not like it one bit.

Ten minutes later found him sat on the floor, his back up against the wall, and his head in his hands. It took him around 20 seconds to realise that instead of screams of pain, there was utter silence coming from the closed door. This did not strike him as a good sign, so he leapt up, and stumbled towards the door, in a rush to open it. Before he could do so, the door was flung open by a nurse, her face white in what he could only describe as horror, and blood soaking her white gown. Gerard stared in terror, at her, before shoving her out of the way, and into the room before she could say a word. The sight he was met with was one which would haunt him forever. His beautiful Emilia was covered in blood, and was utterly still, as the midwife, and her nurses attempted to save her.

"Emilia!" He rushed over to her side.

"Where is he?" She muttered, almost incoherently. "Where is my baby?"

"Mousier, I am so sorry. The child was breach, and your wife has suffered a great deal of bleeding. We have tried all we can to save her." The nurse who he had previously shoved out of the way was speaking to him, but he barely understood a word. "She is losing far too much blood, sir."

"What are you talking about? You can save her can't you? Isn't that your job?" He shouted the last words at the midwife, his rage barely contained any more.

"I am so sorry Mr Destler. We have done all that we can, but your wife is very weak and we can't stop her bleeding. I am so sorry."

"This is the twentieth century!" Gerard bellowed at her. "Women do not die from child birth. You have to be able to do something! Can't we take her to the hospital?"

"We don't have time sir. She has lost too much blood already. There is nothing more we can do."

"Please..." The weak voice of Emilia woke him from his rage. "Please...I want to see my baby."

"Of course my darling." He walked over to her and stroked her sweaty forehead. My God, she felt so hot. Was there really nothing m ore they could do for her? "W...where is the child?" He asked, gazing down at the barely conscious form of his wife, her face a stark white in contrast to the blood that was soaking her night dress. Upon Emilia's insistence she had been allowed a home birth and so the facilities which may have saved her were limited. He wished fervently that he had insisted on going to the hospital, and yet he knew he wouldn't have done so. Emilia's fear of hospitals would have been too much for her fragile body to cope with and as usual he had been unable to deny her anything.

The nurse stammered something incomprehensible and looked towards her colleague. "H...He's o...over there." She pointed hesitantly towards the small crib by the wall.

He! He had a son. He could barely believe it. "Gerry, where is he. I want to hold my son." Emilia whimpered, holding out a shaking hand towards him. He grabbed her hand in his, and brought it to his mouth to kiss it. "I will get him for you my dear." He fought the urge not to cry, something he could not ever recall doing in his life.

"Mousier, please don't. I don't think that's a good idea." The midwife came forward, and stood in front of him, as he made the move to retrieve the child.

"What do you mean?" He shouted at the woman. "It is our child, and if my wife wants to hold him, then that is what she will do." If Emilia wanted to hold their child then that was what she would get and nothing was going to stop him.

"But Mousier..." The midwife trailed off, as Gerard stalked past her to retrieve the child in the bassinet.

If Gerard had thought the sight of his wife drenched in her own blood, and fighting for her life was going to haunt him forever, it was nothing compared to the sight which greeted him from that crib. He had to physically restrain himself from screaming in horror at the sight. Whatever it was it was not human but some hideous monster. No human being ever had a face like that. He flung himself backwards, knocking into one of the nurses, sending her flying. If he looked any longer at the thing in that crib he would be sick. In all his 33 years he had never seen anything so horrific.

"Gerry." Came the weak fading voice of his wife. "Please, let me see him. I want to see my baby."

Gerard did not know what to do. He did not want the last thing his darling Emilia to see be that monster. Yet he could not deny the woman he loved her dying wish. And so, hands trembling he reached forward and picked up the bundle of blankets containing the child, and feeling grateful that he didn't have to touch the monster's skin brought it over to Emilia. The life was slowly fading from her and yet she used the last of her strength to hold out her arms towards the bundle.

Not knowing what to say to prepare her, Gerard placed the thing in her arms. He watched closely as several emotions passed across her face. The first naturally was shock, followed swiftly by something Gerard would not have expected. It was the way she often looked at him, especially those times early on in their marriage when their love was at its strongest.

"Oh Gerry, we have a boy. Can you believe it? A beautiful boy." She smiled down at the child which was gazing up at her, what looked like wonder on its hideous features. Perhaps death was making her delusional or ever blind, but Gerard was relieved she evidently could not see what the thing she was holding really looked like. "My Erik." She whispered as she leant down and placed a small kiss on its forehead. Leaning back against her pillows, she grimaced in pain, tears flowing freely down her white face. Gerard could no longer contain his own emotions and for the first time in his life felt hot tears flowing down his own cheeks. He no longer looked at the thing in her arms. The thing would be back in hell soon enough.

"Gerry." She moaned, her voice if anything sounding even more faint. "Please, will you promise me something?" She was still staring down at the thing in her arms. "Will you love Erik for the both of us? Promise me you will love him Gerry?" Her eyes pleaded with him. This woman knew him as no one else ever had and she knew that loving that child would not come easy for him, and so she had to plead with him to do so. She who knew every terrible thing about him and yet still loved him despite it all. He was a selfish man. This he knew to be true and yet he had loved Emilia from the moment he saw her and would have done anything to please her. This last request however, made on her death bed, he feared he would not be able to keep. How she could ask this of him he did not know. That monster in her arms was surely the devil, sent as punishment for every sin he had ever committed. It was not possible to love it. Emilia was clearly delusional at present however, and so he did the only thing he could. He lied.

"Yes Emilia darling. I will love him for the both of us." With those words, Emilia closed her eyes, finally able to slip away, safe in the knowledge that her son would be well loved without her. "I love you." She whispered, before slumping lifeless against the pillows.

Gerard did not notice that the nurses had left the room. He did not notice the infant, squirming helplessly in its dead mother's. All he could do at that moment was weep, his head in his hands. He had not even got the chance to say he loved her one last time. Those words had always been hard for him to say, but he wished he could have said them then so that he knew that she knew just what she meant to him.

Later that evening, Gerard watched as his wife was carried away in a black body bag. He had no more tears to cry now and all he felt was numbness throbbing through him. He hadn't looked at the child since the paramedic had prized the thing from Emilia's dead arms. It was then that it had begun to cry, high melodious wails that had made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He had refused to hold the thing when the man had handed it to him and instead instructed him to put it back in the bassinet. Now that he was alone again, he finally brought himself to look down at the thing. It had stopped crying now, almost as if it knew that its cries were in vain and that no one would come. Well, it was a fast learner then, he thought, hatred beginning to flow through his veins in replacement for the numbness from before. It wasn't moving and Gerard felt a stab of hope that the thing was dead, but at that moment it moved its thin legs and made a pitiful noise, a kind of half cry, and it turned its eyes towards him and stared. If the thing had one redeeming quality it was those eyes. They were large and bright blue, and full of childish innocence. They were Emilia's eyes, and Gerard knew that no matter what this thing was, there was some trace of his beautiful Emilia there, no matter how small. This was the reason he did not kill the monster right then, and yet he knew that until the day he died he could never bring himself to keep his promise to Emilia. After all how could one love a demon, a demon who had killed the only woman he had ever loved.

...

**Please review. This story is all planned out but not all written yet. The next chapter will also be much longer. **


	2. Time goes by

_Thanks for the reviews guys. I hope you enjoy this next chapter. _

Chapter 2- Time goes by

It wasn't until little Erik Destler's fifth year when he realised why his father hated him so much. Up until that day it had been somewhat a mystery as to why he never saw him and when he did he could barely look at him in the eye. Erik's nanny, Lydia, and the only person in the world who seemed to care about him had been preparing him for leaving home in order to attend boarding school. Erik was terrified about moving away from home to a place so far away from everything he knew.

"Do I have to go to school?" He asked her as she straightened the mask his father had always made him wear. "Can't I stay here instead?"

"I'm sorry Erik but it's your father's orders. He says you are to go to school there and there is nothing I or anyone else can do about it." Lydia said to the small child. She felt such an overwhelming sadness for this boy in her care. She despised Gerard for treating him in the way he did. Because of him the poor boy knew nothing of love or kindness, though she had done her best to give him what he needed. Not being able to have children herself she had developed a love for the poor disfigured child she was employed to care for. She knew it was not enough and that Erik needed to love of a proper parent. It was clear however that his stubborn father was never going to give it to him. She had found it very difficult to maintain her professional attitude when Gerard had told her that he was sending Erik away to a boarding school far away from him so that he would not have to look at him again except for a few short weeks each summer. She had wanted to shout at the man for being so cruel. Poor sweet Erik wouldn't survive at such a place. She knew how cruel children could be and her Erik would be eaten alive at that school.

Erik sighed, resigned to the fact that he would have to leave. He wouldn't miss his father at all. After all he barely saw him, but he would miss Lydia and some of the other servants in the large country house he lived in.

"Now cheer up." Lydia straightened up, trying to be brave for Erik's sake. "You want to make your father proud of you don't you?"

"Yes, I suppose." He muttered.

"Let's finish packing and then we can play on the piano for a while. What do you say?"

Erik beamed. If there was one thing he loved most, it was playing the piano with Lydia.

The next day when he was due to leave for school, Erik awoke to hear raised voices coming from his father's study. Quickly securing on his mask in case anyone saw him, he crept out of his room and down the corridor towards the voices.

"Do you have any idea what you are doing to that poor boy?" Lydia was nearly shouting.

"I don't have time for this, Lydia. Shouldn't you be getting him ready to leave?" His father's voice sounded passive and uncaring.

"We have hours yet. Plenty enough time for you to say goodbye to your son."

Erik held his breath trying to listen to what his father would say in reply.

"That monster is not my son. I have nothing to say to him." Gerard said dispassionately. "He killed my Emilia. He killed his own mother and you expect me to forget that do you?" He was shouting by now and if Erik could have seen Lydia he would have seen her cowering against the wall, her face a mask of horror over what Gerard was saying. "Now leave, and take him with you. You're services are no longer required here." His words were final.

Erik quickly ran back along the corridor towards his room. Until that moment he had never known why his father hated him so much. He had even believed that he could win his love eventually. Now however he knew why and it was all his fault. He was a monster, a demon, a murderer. No wonder his father hated him. He knew his mother had died whilst giving birth to him, but up until that moment he hadn't thought over it that much. He had killed her. He had killed his own mother. He truly was everything his father had ever called him, and he would never forgive himself as long as he lived.

Erik left his father's home a few hours later with a puffy eyed Lydia in the chauffeur driven car. He turned back around to glance at the large house, not knowing that it would be the last time he would see the place in many years. Nor did he know that he was being watched as he left from the topmost window in the house where his father's study was situated. Neither did he know that the next eleven years of his life would be the equivalent to hell on earth. For the odd child in the mask would be the subject to relentless torture from his fellow peers for all those years, until he finally left at age of sixteen. He had spent every holiday at the school, refusing to go back home to a house where he was not welcome. Better to stay alone at school than see his father again. In fact Erik never saw his father again for the rest of his life.

The sweet, innocent boy was no more and in his place was a ruthless man. Erik Destler managed to build up his own business empire from scratch, making far more money than his father had ever had and not caring whose feet he had to trample on to get where he wanted. What began life as a small musical instrument company soon became the largest manufacturer of high quality instruments in the world. Some said that Erik Destler had no heart, some that he had no soul. Erik knew that he had neither. His father had destroyed whatever heart or soul he possessed and Erik would never forgive him for ruining his early life. Though he no longer blamed himself for his mother's death, he had done so for many years and subsequently shaped him to be a bitter and hateful man. Nearly nineteen years after he had left school, he received the news that his father had passed away whilst in the old people's home he had been sent to a few years back. He had felt nothing at the news, except perhaps a small glimmer of remorse for what his father had never given to him, and what he had taken away instead. He could not bring himself to attend the funeral.

Manhatten-2010

Raoul Channing smiled as he saw what looked like a lilac ghost moving across the bedroom. It jumped in the air and fell over in a heap.

"Aw." Came a disgruntled voice from beneath the sheet. "Drat!" It tried to stand up and fell over yet again.

"Christine. What are you doing exactly?"

"I'm going to the bathroom." A female voice replied as she hobbled her way towards the bathroom door.

"Now this may seem like a ludicrous question, but why are you wearing a bed sheet?" Raoul laughed as she finally managed to reach the door to the bathroom, and had closed it behind her.

Christine didn't reply. She threw off the bed sheet once she had securely locked the door. Liberated from her lilac prison, she was free to get ready for work. She turned on the shower and was about to pull off her pyjamas when there was a knock at the door.

"Christine, are you alright?" Raoul said to the locked door.

"I'm fine." She called back. Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, she grimaced before jumping into the shower. "I won't be long!" She called back to Raoul.

Almost two hours later she emerged to find that Raoul had fallen back to sleep, spread out across her bed, his blond hair hanging in his eyes, his muscled chest bare. She smiled at the sight and threw a pillow at his chest. "Wake up you. It's time for you to go to work."

He woke with a start and glared at her. "So you are finally done. I think you need a second bathroom in this place. I will never get to work on time if we stay like this."

"You're not going to be late. I got up early especially so you wouldn't be." She said, giving her reflection another look in the large ornate mirror on the wall. Her long, blonde curls were swept off her face into an elegant pony tail high on her head. Her makeup was painstakingly applied, with soft kohl around her eyes and black mascara so her eyes looked smoky and sensual. Her full lips were painted a soft pink and her cheeks a natural rose colour. What she liked to call her natural look in fact took a great deal of time and effort to apply.

"How do I look?" She asked Raoul, tugging at her blouse self consciously.

"You look lovely as always, Christine." He sighed. "But one of these days I would like to see what you actually look like."

"What do you mean by that?" Asked Christine as she searched the table for her bag.

"Well, we have been together for almost a year now and I have never seen your face." Raoul said, passing her the bag which was on the floor in the corner of the room.

Christine laughed. "Raoul you are silly. You're looking at me right now."

"Yes, but through that layer of slap you always wear. You look amazing." He said swiftly, catching the accusing look she gave him. "But you are too obsessed with your appearance. You are beautiful underneath all that makeup and I just want to see you."

"Well keep dreaming mate." Christine gave him a quick kiss before walking out of the bedroom. "No one sees me without make up, and I mean no one. I try to avoid it as best I can myself."

Raoul sighed and followed her out of the door. He was fighting a losing battle and he knew it. Christine was stubborn and there was no point in trying to argue with her, especially at a time so early in the morning.

"So, I will see you tonight then?"

"Yes that's fine. I will finish work at around four if I'm lucky and then I'm all yours." She said, finishing off a cup of coffee and picking up a letter from the floor by the door.

She gave him a quick kiss and left the flat, but not before giving her reflection one last glance in the hall mirror.

Raoul sighed, slightly exasperated. Staying a Christine's apartment meant that wherever he turned he would most likely be greeted with a mirror. Being overall quite comfortable in his own skin this was not too much of a problem for Raoul, but to see himself everywhere he went was beginning to annoy him. Christine was simply vain, and he supposed that was something one had to put up with when dating a model of such beauty and Christine Dixon. It was after all a small sacrifice for winning the prize of such a woman.

...

Christine stuffed the official looking letter into her bag and pressed the button for the lift.

"Come on, hurry up." She muttered, stabbing the button over and over. Although in fact pointless this made her believe it would speed up the lift. Eventually there was a pinging noise and it arrived. She liked this lift due to it being made entirely of mirrors inside, so she could make sure she looked as good as she possibly could before leaving for work. She would never admit it to anyone, but the reason she had chosen this particular apartment was because of the lift. If Raoul ever knew this titbit of information he would never let her live it down. He thought her vain and conceited as it was. Why he actually wanted to be with her she had no clue.

Her journey to work was a short one, and only involved one short subway ride. Today however it was taking much longer than usual do to some signalling problems at the next stop. Trying to keep her eyes down and away from the creepy looking man who was staring at her from across, she reached into her bag and pulled out the letter she had picked up earlier.

Her eyes sped across the page, reading at speed. Her eyes scrunched in confusion as she finished the letter. It made no sense whatsoever. Who on earth was Gerard Destler, and why was she required at a reading of his will? She had never met anyone in her life by that name. Was he perhaps some distant relative and she was his only known kin? It was possible but not likely. She had never heard that name before, or at least she was fairly sure she hadn't. Somewhere at the back of her mind she felt like the name was familiar. She spent the rest of the journey trying to think about who this Gerard Destler was and why on earth he would include her in his will, but it took her almost to the end of the day when it finally hit her.

"The nursing home!" She shouted, completely forgetting that she was in the middle of a photography shoot and was surrounded by women in skimpy bikinis whilst she was in the centre wearing a ridiculous dress that made her look like a red and orange peacock, due to the ridiculous amounts of feathers plastered over it. She dreaded to think how many poor birds had to sacrifice their lives in order to gift Donatella Versace with this masterpiece.

"Christine, what the hell are you doing?" The angry looking photographer glared at her over the lens of his camera. Get back into place and quite shouting gibberish!" He went back to snapping pictures, muttering something about dumb blondes. Christine began to feel angry. She would show him what a dumb blonde could do!

"Perfect! Yes, narrow your eyes again. You look stunning!" The photographer began clicking ferociously, shouting more commands at her and the other girls around her. She wasn't listening however and was marvelling over her own revelation. Gerard Destler had been living at the nursing home she had worked at the previous year. The poor old man had been suffering from dementia and was close to the end even then. Now that she knew who he was the memories began to flood back.

Mr Destler was rich, powerful and bad tempered. None of the other nurses had been able to stand him, but Christine had developed a kind of friendship with the old man. They would often talk way into the night about a number of topics, although his mind was not as lucid as it perhaps once was. Often he would slip away during one of their discussions, muttering about a woman named Emilia and how alike she was to her. After a few of these discussions Christine realised that Emilia was his wife who he was lost many years ago. The poor man had clearly never gotten over his loss, and Christine had felt overwhelming pity for him. Gerard had begun to mention Emilia more and more during their talks, sometimes forgetting that Christine was there at all. When his mind was clear enough to notice her he nearly always muttered something along the line of how she must meet his son, and that he would surely be along any day to visit him. Almost every time he mentioned this son, Mr Destler would begin crying and shaking. Christine had not liked to see the old man so upset and so always hated it when he mentioned this son of his. She had enquired with the other nurses and they confirmed that he did indeed have a son, but that he never came to visit him. Christie had not believed it possible to hate someone she had never met before but she had come close to hating this unknown son of Mr Destler's. Granted he was a stubborn and angry man most of the time, but surely that was not enough to abandon ones father in a home and never visit him even once?

It had been whilst Gerard Dester was staying at the home when Christine had been spotted by the modelling agency and asked to join their books. Whilst flattered she had been adamant that modelling was not suited to her. However, she had been made to see sense that the money would be a great deal better than nursing and so she had taken up the offer and had been modelling ever since. After reading the letter from Mr Destler's solicitor she had felt remorse that she hadn't visited him that much in the past year. For a while after first leaving her job she had gone back often to see her colleagues and the residents, but her work load had picked up, giving her less and less time to do anything.

"Okay, that's enough for today." The photographer said, putting down his camera. "We should have at least one good shot in all of that."

Christine followed the other models off the shoot. They were all chattering away but Christine didn't join in. She had never got on with other models that much and had given up trying. Christine hated the bitchiness and backstabbing nature of her line of work, but she had no choice but to stay in it. She needed the money after all if she wanted to fulfil any of her dreams.

Christine arrived back home still thinking about Gerard Destler and the letter from his solicitor. Once she had remembered who he was she had begun to feel guilty. Was she really that important to him that he would leave something to her in his will? She honestly didn't feel worthy enough for something like that. She was grateful that Raoul was not at her apartment yet. She wanted some time to herself in order to think about what she was going to. She supposed she would have to attend the reading if only out of curiosities sake.

**...**

**Please review. I'm getting back into writing after a long time and any encouragement would be great. **


	3. Hate at first sight

_Erik and Christine will meet in this chapter, and it certainly isn't love at first sight. _

One week later, Christine stood looking up at the large red brick building, nerves tugging at her stomach like butterflies. Why she felt like this she did not know. She just hoped that the whole thing would be over with quickly. She would go in there, receive whatever trinket he had left for her and get out as soon as possible. She had needed to fly over to England for the reading and although she had rung up the solicitors asking if that was entirely necessary, they had told her that she must be there in person. They had even provided the money for her flight back to England where the reading was o take place. Though from America originally, Christine had been living in West London when she had been working at the nursing home where she met Gerard Destler. Her modelling work had brought her back home to the states however. Now she was back in London and never had she wanted to be home more. Seeing a beggar sat on the side of the road clutching a polystyrene cup she absently dropped in the spare change from the bottom of her purse, and walked up the stone steps towards the entrance.

Upon entering the building and giving her name to the woman behind the reception she was told to wait for when the solicitor would see her. Still feeling nervous, she pushed her large dark sunglasses more securely up her nose. Her hair was straight today and tied up into a bun. She was wearing a black dress suit and a crisp white blouse. The only colour in her outfit was the pair of extremely high red shoes she wore. The look she was going for was impenetrable ice queen. Some more cruel people may have called it the cold hearted bitch look, but Christine didn't care. Emotions were not things she was good at showing and so she would stay as cold and hard as she could throughout the whole thing.

Christine picked up a magazine from the chair next to her and began to flick through the pages. It was that month's copy of _Vogue_ and she grimaced when she saw herself in that hideous red and orange feathered dress on the front page. Her red lips were full and pouted and her overly exaggerated cheekbones an even deeper red to match the dress. Along with this, her eyelids had been coloured a deep orange, fading to a lighter orange at the corner of her eyes, and her hair was backcombed to within an inch of its life so it stood up over her head at almost a foot high. She looked ridiculous in her opinion. Everyone over at _Vogue _however had proclaimed at her beauty, telling her she was bound to be a success, and that she would be setting the trend for that autumn. Christine scoffed and threw the magazine back on the chair beside her. Having been engrossed in looking at her photograph she did not notice the man who had entered the office and sat himself opposite her. When she did glance up she couldn't help gasping slightly. The first thing that she noticed about him was his immense size. Even sat down she could tell that he was well over six feet tall, and very broad shouldered. He was dressed entirely in black which matched his black hair. It was only when her gaze rose to his face when she saw the discrete skin coloured mask which covered most of his face, only revealing his square jaw and chin. This was not what shocked her most however. It was the look in his blue eyes which caused her to want to curl up into a protective ball and disappear. Never had she seen anyone look at her in such undisguised hatred before. His penetrating stare was beginning to break through her shell and she did not like it one bit. Luckily her sunglasses gave her the protection she needed and he didn't have to know the effect he had on her. Whoever he was, she sincerely hoped that he would be leaving soon.

"Miss Dixon is it?" the man spoke, leaning forward in his seat, placing his black gloved hands on his knees.

"Erm, yes." Christine suddenly forgot how to talk. "Who are you?"

The man chuckle darkly. "It doesn't matter who I am. The point is that you have no business here. I am asking you to leave." He spoke softly and yet his voice held so much power that it make her knees tremble. Something told her that this man was not someone she wanted as an enemy.

"I'm sorry?" Christine laughed nervously. "I was supposed to..."

"I am asking you to leave, Miss Dixon. There has been a mistake regarding the will of the late Gerard Destler and you are no longer required at the reading." His eyes bore even more into hers. "Please leave."

"Look, I don't know who you think you are, but I was asked to attend this reading and I am not going anywhere." Christine began to pull herself together. She was not going to let this man bully her into leaving. If her outfit made her look like a cold hearted bitch then that was what she must portray.

"Erik Destler." He said sternly. "I am Gerard Destler's son and I am telling you that you are not needed here." His voice rose menacingly. "I suppose you thought you thought you could earn yourself a nice little fortune from the old bastard. Well your time was wasted my dear. You won't be getting a penny."

"Just who do you think I am exactly?"

"I know full well who you are, Christine Dixon."

The second Erik had heard from his father's solicitor that he was not the sole beneficiary in his father's will he had begun to have his suspicions. Granted, he had not seen his father in many years, but he had heard from Lydia with whom he kept a regular correspondence that he had become somewhat of a womaniser, with many mistresses taking the place of Erik's mother in his bed. These stories had only confirmed what he had been starting to learn about his father ever since going to school. How his mother had ever been able to live with him he would never know. Perhaps she was just like his long string of mistresses, only after his money and power. It was clearly the only redeeming feature he possessed after all. This was something he feared he in fact shared with his father. His wealth was the only thing which any woman would be attracted to also. In his case however there was nothing he could do to change the fact. His good for nothing father had all the equipment to be a wonderful and brilliant man, and yet he had wasted it all in favour of hatred and the love of power.

Upon receiving the solicitor's letter, his first feeling had been one of shock. He had never expected his father to include him in his will at all and frankly he didn't want a single penny from the man who had destroyed his childhood. He had rung up the solicitors to say that he would not be attending and to tell them where they could stick the no doubt measly amount of money his father had left after his debts had been paid off. His anger had increased a thousand fold when he was told that he must attend the reading due to there being another beneficiary of the will, and his attendance was mandatory to the conditions of the will. This no doubt meant that he was to split the money with someone. This person was no doubt the latest of his father's mistresses, and there was no way in hell he was allowing all of his birth right to go to one of his father's whores! Grunting a reply that he would be in attendance he had thrown down the receiver and smashed a decanter of whiskey on his desk. Whoever this unknown women was she could not ever begin to imagine the hell she was about to go through when she met him.

Erik himself had had quite the shock when he walked into that office waiting room and saw the woman sat there. Engrossed in a glossy magazine she did not notice him at first and this gave him time to study her. She was a great deal younger than he had imagined, and couldn't be older than her early twenties. She truly must be a gold-digger if she would have slept with a man so much older than herself. Her straight, sleek blonde hair was pulled back from her head exposing her long, elegant neck, and angular cheekbones, which were bronzed to perfection. She wore large sunglasses which shielded her eyes from his view, and her tight black suit hugged her slim body in all the right places. Some men may have thought her beautiful. He on the other hand saw exactly what she was from the start. A cold hearted, money hungry bitch, and not attractive to him in the least.

Now she thought she could play the innocent with him. Well she clearly had no idea what she was getting herself into by lying to him! "I suppose you thought sleeping with my father would result in a fortune coming your way. Well I do hate to disappoint you but my father appears to have lied to you. There is less money in my father's account than in that beggars cup outside."

For once in her life Christine was utterly speechless. Never had she been spoken to by anyone like this before. Was this awful man really insinuating that she had been having an affair with his father? The man was probably old enough to be her grandfather. Her mouth was hanging open in shock as she stammered for a reply.

"H...how dare you say that to me!" Christine was so outraged that she could barely form a coherent sentence. After she had taken a few deep breaths to calm her fuming temper, she regained her senses and began to fight back. "You accuse me of something you have no evidence for! You are the one who left that poor man to die alone in that awful home. You are a selfish, arrogant pig of a man!" She stood up from her seat, standing as high as she could in her six inch heels.

Christine was not usually one for full blown arguments. As a general rule she hated confrontation and did her best to avoid it. This man however made her angrier than she had ever been in her life.

"You little b..." Erik began to speak, standing up in his chair, making Christine realise just how tall he actually was. Even in her heels he towered over her much smaller frame. He was interrupted however by a coughing noise coming from the office door.

"Excuse me." A grey haired man dressed in a business suit said nervously. "I hate to break up this...this little chat but you can both come inside now."

Erik and Christine continued to glare at each other from across the room, not looking at the solicitor who was ring his hands nervously.

Christine span around and walked towards him, ignoring the glaring Erik who looked ready to cause her serious harm. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he had affected her. She checked that her hair was still in place as she stalked into the open office in front of Erik and the solicitor. It would surely not take long for him to read through the will and sort through everything and then her and that hateful man could go their separate ways and never have to set eyes on each other again. Yes, the sooner they sorted this out the sooner she could escape.

"Thank you Miss Dixon, Mr Destler. I am so glad you could both make it here today." The solicitor shook both their hands and sat down behind a large desk and indicated for them both to sit opposite him. "My name is Henry Reynolds. I was the late Gerard Destler's attorney. I believe you both know why you are here."

Erik and Christine both sat down, each doing their best not to look at the other. The tension in the air was palpable and Henry could feel the hatred radiating between the two people opposite him. This whole process was going to be a lot more difficult than he had anticipated. "You have both been included in the last will and testament of the late Gerard Destler."

He took out the piece of paper from his file and began to read from it. The first few lines were standard of any will and it was only until he came to the second paragraph that both Erik and Christine began to listen in earnest. "I hereby bequeath my entire fortune, a sum of twenty million British pounds to be split equally between my son, Erik James Destler and Christine Annabelle Dixon."

Erik was flabbergasted. To him twenty million pounds was not huge. He was sure he had made somewhere in that sum last year alone, but he would never have guessed his father had that sort of money left. He would have bet anything that all of the family's fortune had been squandered on drink, gambling and women by now.

Henry carried on reading from the will. "The sum will only be payable to each party after a period of no shorter than six months. During this time both my son and Miss Dixon must reside in the same dwelling for every night during those six months."

Henry kept on reading but Christine did not take in another word. All she could hear was the previous statement over and over again. Twenty million pounds! Six months living with this awful man! There was no way she could bare it, not for all the money in the world!

"No!" Erik practically shouted. "There is no way I am doing it." He shot a glare at Christine. "He expected me to live with this... this _woman _for the next six months!" The way he said the word woman made it plainly clear what he thought of her and it was not complimentary. "What happens if I refuse?"

Henry coughed nervously, not liking the look of anger and horror each of the people were giving him. Gerard had been so sure... but never mind that now. The will was written and the man was dead. There was nothing anyone could do to change it. "If you do not agree to the terms of the will then the money will be given to a Mrs Diane Richton. I believe she was acquainted with the deceased a few years back." He scanned the paper to find the information he required.

Christine couldn't help but let out a burst of laughter. "Well I know where my vote lies." Whoever this Diane Richton was she was welcome to the money.

"Just what exactly are the stipulations of this will?" Erik said interrupting her. "Surely if we just buy a residence with both our names on the deeds, it will suffice? We do not have to actually live together surely?"

"I am afraid that you do, Mr Destler. Your father made it quite plain to me when writing this will that you and Miss Dixon must both live under the same residence for every night of the six months, and there is no way of changing it. It says here that you must be under the same residence between the hours of ten in the evening and ten in the morning. You are free to do as you wish during the daylight hours." Henry read from the will yet again.

"Oh, well that's just brilliant isn't it!" Erik said, sarcastically. He had never been so furious. He could barely stand to be in the presence of this woman for more than five minutes. He would not survive six whole months!

"Oh and you think I'm pleased about it!" Christine glared at him, whipping off her glasses so to give him her best evil stare. "I would rather die than live with you for a single night!" She declared vehemently.

"People please!" Henry tried to regain some form or order into his office. If he had wanted people shouting in his office he would have become a divorce lawyer. "You are disturbing my workforce."

Indeed almost all of the firm's employees were crowded around Henry's office door, peering through the glass, trying to see what was causing all the shouting.

"Miss Dixon, Mr Destler, I have read to you the conditions on the will. It is up to you to decide what you will do. You must however decide what you are going to do before the month is up, or Mrs Richton will receive all twenty million, and I don't think either of you want that do you."

"Who is this woman?" Christine asked impatiently. If she was a worthy cause then she would feel far more willing to part with the money.

"She and the deceased were a couple seven years ago. I believe they may even have been engaged but the wedding never went through. She owns the fashion label Forever Fur. You may have heard of her." He indicated this statement at Christine, clearly in the knowledge of her fashion modelling career. Christine's eyes widened in horror. Forever Fur was a despicable label and Christine despised it. She hated the use of fur for clothes and it was the one thing she would never model for. That feathered Versace dress was something she had despised wearing and had been bullied into it by her agent. There was no way in a million years she could allow someone like Diana Richton to get her evil hands on twenty million pounds. No animal in the world would be safe!

Erik watched the emotions pass across Christine's face. Now that those sunglasses had gone he could see her startling green eyes clearly. As soon as she had ripped them away he had found it hard to remember what he was going to say, they were such a bright colour. No matter how gorgeous her eyes may be, this woman was still an evil, gold digging little whore and he despised her. When Henry had mentioned Diane, he saw anger and pain cross her eyes. Clearly the thought of her hard earned cash going to an ex mistress of Gerard's did not appeal to her. After all she had clearly worked very hard indeed for her reward.

"I'll do it." She whispered finally, as if it took all of her strength to say so. "If it is the only way of getting the money then I will do it."

Erik scowled and looked away. "I have no choice do I. I don't want my inheritance going to another one of my father's lovers."

"Brilliant." Henry beamed. "I am so glad that we have that sorted. When would be a good time for both of you to begin the arrangement?"

"I need at least a week." Christine quickly interjected. "I have some...some business to sort out. That, along with finding someone to take on my apartment."

"Excuse me." Erik turned on her. "But what makes you think you are coming to live at my house?"

Christine scowled at him. "Oh by all means come to live at mine! That is if you don't mind living in a one bedroom apartment!" Christine shouted. She somehow doubted this particular arrangement would sit any better with him than it did her. Upon seeing his look of horror she smiled coldly, showing her pearly white teeth. "I didn't think so. No doubt you have nice big mansion somewhere. That should suit me just fine." She crossed her arms over her chest and looked forward once more.

Erik could feel his teeth grinding together. He would be very surprised if he made it through the next six months without murdering her.

"So, is next Monday alright for both of you? That gives you just over a week to set your affairs in order." Henry looked extremely eager to get both of them out of his office as soon as possible.

"Fine." Erik muttered dejectedly, standing up from his seat and stalking out of the office, his long black coat swaying out behind him.

Christine said a quick goodbye to Henry before walking out after him. Henry breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't sure which of the two he felt most sorry for in this situation, but he wouldn't be surprised if one or both of them ended up killing the other in the next six months. Luckily his own expertise was not in criminal law.

"Excuse me!" Christine shouted after Erik as he swept down the street. "Excuse me! You haven't told me where to meet you!" She ran after him, tottering down the street in her high heels.

He span around to glare at her, causing her to almost topple over in fear. "Be at Heathrow airport at eleven o'clock Monday morning, and do not be late. Arrive one second after eleven and the whole thing is off." With that he turned back around and stormed off, getting into a sleek black sports car, and speeding off down the street with a screech of tires.

Christine moaned in despair as she watched him leave. Never had she met anyone so rude, obtuse and downright awful in all her life. How she would cope living with the man she did not know, but one thing she knew for sure. The next six months would definitely be interesting.

...

**Please review, and the next chapter will be along shortly. I would just like to add that I know nothing of what wills look like or what goes on at a reading of one so if there are any lawyers out there reading this, please try to ignore it if I got it all wrong. **


	4. On the plane

_Thank you so much to those of you who have reviewed. It means a lot to me to know what people think. _

Chapter four- On the plane

Erik hurtled down the roads, barely looking to see where he was going. He was sure he must have run at least three red lights and a dozen speed cameras but he did not care. He was on fire with such an anger he had never felt before. Temper was never something he had been great at keeping, but that woman riled him like no one he had ever met before. She encompassed everything he detested in women. She was vain, shallow, greedy and no doubt spoiled. He would bet anything that she had been a pampered and adored little princess when she was a child. He could just picture a tiny blonde haired child surrounded by pink cushions and quilts, perhaps throwing a tantrum over something she wanted. She had no idea what it was like to suffer, to feel pain and loss. He grinded his teeth as he sped over a zebra crossing, ignoring the two women who leapt back shouting abuse after him. He was not concentrating on where he was driving in the least but somehow ended up outside the hotel he was staying at. Stopping the car with a deafening screech he got out, slammed the door and tossed the keys to the terrified looking valet. His anger still had not abated when he reached the pent house apartment he was renting.

Pacing back and forth in the spacious living area he went over everything he had heard in the solicitor's office. Perhaps he should just call the whole thing off and sacrifice his inheritance. After all, the money made no difference to him. Would he really live with Christine for six months just out of hurt pride? That money was rightfully his and it would not matter if it were twenty pounds rather than twenty million. Perhaps living with her wouldn't be as terrible as he had originally thought. He did live in a huge mansion, where there was plenty enough space for two people to live without ever having to actually see each other. Those who lived in apartment buildings often never saw there neighbours even after many years of living close by. Yes, he thought, finally allowing himself to relax into the arm chair by the window. Everything would be perfectly fine. He would barely even be aware that Miss Dixon was living in his home. He would place her at the far end of his house where she would have her own living area, and he would neve see her. He was just growing used to this comforting thought when he happened to glance out of the window. A gigantic Christine Dixon was staring in at him, her full red lips pouted and her doe eyes full and yet empty, her perfectly rounded breasts clearly visible over a white silk gown, and her skin glowing almost gold. She was dressed as an angel! He leapt back, cursing only to realise that it was not really her but a bill board poster version advertising a famous perfume brand. His eyes widened in horror as he started at her. He should have guessed that she was a model! This only confirmed what he already thought about her character. Staring horrified out the window at her, he groaned loudly before yanking the curtains closed. Was there no escape from this devil woman?

Her presence outside his window tortured him all night, and he didn't get a wink of sleep. First thing tomorrow morning he was swapping hotels!

...

Christine didn't get much sleep that night either. She had spent almost an hour on the phone with Raoul talking about what had happened. He was very supportive and calm as always, speaking to her in a soothing voice and assuring her that everything would be fine. When she had asked him what would happen between them and how their relationship would cope as a long distance one he had paused a few seconds before assuring her that nothing between them would change and that he would be there when she got back home.

"I can't live away from you for that long." Christine had sobbed down the phone. "Would you not consider coming to live over here? It wouldn't be for that long."

"Christine you know I can't do that. There are massive changes over at the firm right now, and I can't possibly just up and leave. I would lose my job."

"Okay I understand. I only wanted to see." Christine said quietly, trying not to betray the lump in her throat or the tears in her eyes. Raoul's career would always come first in his life and though she knew he cared for her she would always be second to him.

"Of course you did my dear. Now I had better go. Our huge meeting with the union is tomorrow and I need to plan my portfolio." He spoke calmly to her. "You're alright now aren't you?"

"I'll be fine Raoul, thanks." Christine sniffed. She was sure that even now, he was sifting through a pile of bank reports and wouldn't have heard if she said she was suicidal and planning on jumping off the tower of London.

"Brilliant. I will talk to you tomorrow. Bye love."

"Bye. I love you."

"Love you too. Bye sweetheart." He put down the phone and Christine curled up into a tighter ball beneath the cashmere quilt she had been under. Usually Raoul was so good at cheering her up and putting a smile on her face but today he had only made her feel worse. It was almost as if he didn't care that they would be away from each other for six months. Raoul was a very calm and collected person and that was what she loved about him, but for once she would have loved him to have showed some passion. Although it sounded absurd somewhere inside her she had had the idea that upon hearing what had happened at the reading he would come haring over to England and sort the entire thing out. Raoul had never been one for haring anywhere though so this would have been entirely out of character. She smiled to herself as she thought of what he would have thought of her today, shouting at a strange man in a solicitor's office. He would have been horrified that's for sure. Shouting was something the calm and collected Raoul never did.

For the rest of the night she sat in the cosy armchair in the small bed and breakfast she was staying at. It was a sweet little place and obviously well cared for, and it was an extremely cheap rate for the time she was staying there. Now she was alone she was able to remove all of her makeup and allow all her defences to slip as the tears began to fall down her face. It was cold by the window but she didn't mind, liking to watch the street far below her. She watched as people walked past, coming out of restaurants and bars, chattering away without a care in the world. Christie was used to loneliness having suffered from it nearly all her life, but at that moment as she watched the other lives so far away from her she felt more alone than she had ever felt in her life.

...

It was five minutes to eleven the following Monday and Christine was stranded in the middle of the heaving Heathrow airport. Upon arriving at the airport she had been struck with the sudden realisation that she did not know where she was supposed to meet Erik. In her fury she had forgotten to ask such a simple question. If she had known where they were going she could have found her way to the correct departure gate but she hadn't the foggiest idea where she was to be heading. She couldn't even ask anyone for help for what on earth would she ask them? After a few desperate minutes standing in the middle of the check in area, she was approached by a young man dressed in a smart black uniform, a chauffer's hat perched on his head.

"Excuse me, but are you Christine Dixon?"

"Yes, that's me." Said Christine.

The man visibly sighed in relief. "You had better come with me, and quickly. You're already late."

He took the small wheelie suitcase from her grasp and began to walk briskly away from her. Christine ran after him, trying her best to keep up. This was made difficult due to her strappy sandals which were slipping on her sweaty feet. She had tried to dress in comfortable clothes for the journey deciding on a knee length yellow silk skirt and a white cotton strappy top with little yellow daisies dotted over it. Her hair was down today and straight again, flowing down to her waist in a soft wave.

"Where are we going? The check in desks are that way." She pointed behind her away from where they were heading.

"You will be travelling on Mr Destler's private jet." He said over his shoulder.

Private jet! Talk about a carbon footprint! The guy obviously thought he ruled the world. She supposed the great Erik Destler was far too brilliant to travel with the mere mortals in a public flight, even in first class. She should have bloody guessed he had a private jet.

Christine followed the man towards a small door at the far end of the check in hall where another man was waiting. As they approached, he opened the door for them to go through to another room where Christine's luggage had to go through security. Once that was done they went through another door which led outside where all the planes were. They made their way towards a small plane a few hundred meters away. Christine immediately noticed Erik stood outside it, looking impatient.

"Ten seconds to eleven." He said sounding slightly smug as she approached him. "You're cutting it very fine." He swept up the steps leading to the entrance of the plane, his black coat billowing out behind him. He reminded Christine of a giant bat.

"And hello to you too." She muttered under her breath as she followed him up.

One of the negative aspects of this private jet Christine quickly discovered was that there were only two seats, and they were right next to each other. Erik was already sat by the window and was looking out of it, clearly not wanting to look at her. Inwardly groaning, Christine sat next to him and buckled her seat belt. She would have liked the window seat but suspected that he had taken it just to spite her and hereby provoke a reaction. Well she would not give him the satisfaction! She was now a person who loved the aisle seat.

"So, where are we going?" She asked, trying her best to keep the peace, and sound merely inquisitive. It was a few moments before he answered her, so she took a bottle of water out of her bag and opened it.

"You don't know? I'm surprised you haven't spent the past week trying to find out everything you can about me and where I live." He answered not looking at her.

"Believe it or not but you are not the centre of my universe." She retorted feeling irritated already. He did not say anything else, but continued to look out of the window. "So, where _are_ we going?"

"Scotland." He said, briskly.

Christine coughed on a mouthful of water, almost spraying it over her lap. "Scotland!" She had never been to Scotland in her life, and had not had any wish to do so. It was cold, wet and dull. How would she fill her days!

Erik raised his unseen brows, looking mildly amused. "You do not like Scotland?"

"I love it." Christine said, thinking quickly. "I have always wanted to go there." She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing how their destination troubled her.

"Oh yes." He looked at her inquisitively. "Which part most interests you?"

Fuck! "Erm..." She didn't know the first thing about Scotland. "Er...Loch Ness." She blurted out. "I want to find Nessy."

Erik snorted with laughter. "I don't live anywhere near the mythical monster I'm afraid."

"Oh. Pity." She murmured. They sat in silence, the tension between them palpable once more.

Within a few minutes they were speeding along the run way and flying off high into the air, heading far north and a long way from London. Keeping her gaze firmly forward she retrieved her iPod out of her bag and plugged herself in, trying her best to ignore the presence of the man next to her. She leaned her seat back as far as it would go, and closed her eyes. The soothing classical music worked beautifully at calming her down, and she was almost able to forget he was there.

Erik was surprised when Christine leaned her seat back and went straight to sleep. He had been sure that she would have been finding great pleasure in annoying him already, asking more questions about their destination. He had been fully prepared to have to answer questions regarding her room and the many requirements she would have for her stay, and in a small way had been looking forward to making this very difficult for her to obtain, in order to rile her up to anger once more. He was slightly disappointed when she chose to ignore him and listen to her iPod instead. No doubt she was listening to some awful rap or chart music. Young people these days rarely knew how to appreciate the true beauty of music.

She looked different today that was for sure. Her outfit was summery and casual, a stark contrast to the hard black suit she had worn before. It made her look more feminine, and even younger, vulnerable even. He laughed harshly to himself. Vulnerable! Christine Dixon was far from vulnerable. Still, he couldn't help but stare at her, at the way her soft eyelashes rested against her cheekbones like tiny black half moons. Her full lips were coloured cherry red today, and he was suddenly struck with the thought of what they might taste like. Were they as soft and delicious as they looked? Erik swiftly shook himself. This was the woman that he despised with a passion, the woman who wanted to take away what was rightfully his for her own selfish greed. A model of all people, and a filthy gold digger to boot. He hated her, and he would remain to do so, no matter how soft her lips looked. He turned to look back out of the window at the many fields below, which were slowly getting smaller and smaller as the plane ascended into the sky. He rapped his fingers on the table in front of him, feeling bored. Ordinarily he would have read a book or listened to some music himself, but he was not in the mood. How could she just fall asleep and ignore him! They had things to discuss, namely how they were going to remain away from each other yet under the same roof once they arrived in Scotland. Even asleep this woman infuriated him.

Christine was just dropping off to sleep, the relaxing tones of Mozart floating through her ears when the music suddenly stopped. Fumbling to look at her iPod she saw that the battery had run out. Drat! Pulling out her earphones, she sighed and tossed it into her bag at her feet. She glanced across Erik and out the window. She could see nothing but dense grey cloud so she went back to staring ahead of her, the blank wall of the cock pit her only view. She tapped her long, pink nails on her table and sighed. How long did it take to get to Scotland? She wouldn't have thought it would take much longer than an hour by plane. They must be nearly there by now. She glanced at her watch to see that only fifteen minutes had gone by since takeoff. She was so bored! Glancing idly to her right she saw that Erik was looking out at the darkening sky. Was she really that bored that she would deliberately rile him just for something to do? After taking a breath, she spoke.

"So, what's with that mask then?"

Instantly, Erik came out of his reverie, turning to glare at her with such fury, any other person would have cowered away in terror. If Erik had a number one rule it was that under no circumstances must anyone mention his mask. The last person who had was a minor employee of his five years ago. Not only had the man had the stuffing beat out of him, but he had ensured the man never found employment in the music industry ever again. The man had had to live off liquidised food for three months and had never walked properly since. Now this scrap of a woman dared to ask him about it outright. He rounded on her, leaning round to fully face her, forcing to lean back as far as she could go in her seat.

"Never, and I repeat never mention the mask. If you do so again it will be the last thing you ever do." He spoke in his most threatening voice, one that usually made grown men run for cover and cry for their mothers. Christine merely shrugged.

"Why's that then? Whatya gonna do?" She asked, her eyes challenging him, and her mouth turning up in a grin.

Erik's eyes flashed with anger. "I will not tell you again. That is one subject I will not discuss with you. In fact I do not wish to discuss any subject with you."

"Okay that's fine, but you didn't answer my question. Are you just weird..."

"THAT'S IT!" Erik bellowed. "Say one more word and we are heading straight back to England, and this entire thing is off!"

Christine sighed dramatically and slumped back on her seat, whistling a long slow note "Okay keep your hair on." She chuckled. "Looks like I trod on a bit of a nerve there."

He ignored her and went back to looking out of the window, seething with anger. He wanted to strangle the living daylights out of her, but that of course would get him nowhere. He took a few calming breaths and tried to ignore her infuriating presence next to him. He was too angry to even be hurt by her words, and usually any mention or thought of his mask and what lay beneath caused him immeasurable pain. It was the bane of his existence, the reason why his life was so miserable and why his father had never loved him. If this spoiled brat had any idea what he went through she would have thought twice before causally bringing the subject up. Of course she had no idea what he had been through. She would have been beautiful and pampered all her life, showered with love and affection. Someone like her could never even begin to understand his pain.

Christine leaned down and yanked her book out of her bag and began to read furiously, if indeed one can read furiously. As it turned out she was far too angry to read and so contented herself with pretending to do so. Anything to avoid showing how much he had got to her. True she had deliberately mentioned the mask in order to rile him, but never had she imagined he would react like that. She had even begun to feel a little scared when he glowered at her and shouted. Of course she didn't let him see that, and masked her fear with humour. She still couldn't help wondering why he did wear the mask. She doubled that it was a statement of fashion or some form of his individuality. The mask was far too discrete for that. No, she conceded, most likely he was hiding something. Well, he could go on hiding it for all she cared. What was or was not beneath that mask was of no interest to her. Never the less, for the rest of the flight, she couldn't help but through him the odd shy glance, trying to get a better look at the mask. He faced away from her the entire time however so she never got the opportunity.

**Okay time for more shameless begging. Review please! **


	5. Six months in hell?

Chapter 5-Six months in hell?

When the plane touched down, the first thing Christine noticed was the rain. It pelted against the window of the plane in huge fat drops. Christine felt wet and cold just looking at it. Glancing down at her outfit she realised that it was perhaps not the best choice after all. Luckily she had packed a rain coat which had folded up nicely in her hand luggage. She pulled it on and stood up to leave the plane. It was a little too big for her and a sickly pink colour but it did its job.

"Very flattering." Erik muttered, as he walked past her, pulling on his own black coat. Christine scowled at him, gave a rude hand gesture and followed him off the plane. The coat was good at keeping the rain off her but it did very little to stop the biting cold from reaching her. Hugging her arms around her body she ran across the small airport landing ground towards the tiny little building Erik was headed towards. Holy shit, she had never been this cold in all her life, and it was only September! She dreaded to think what the winter would be like. She wanted to ask Erik where exactly in Scotland they were but refrained. Something told her that he most likely wouldn't tell her anyway. From what she could see through the torrential rain, they were by the sea, but the vast blackness ahead of her could have been a loch. The airport they had landed at was tiny. Most likely it was his own private airport too she thought as they entered the building. It was lovely and warm inside, but they didn't stay for long as they left instantly through another door, where there was a large black car waiting. The same man who had found Christine at Heathrow carried her bag and placed it into the boot for her.

"Is that all you've got?" Erik asked, looking surprised. "You have certainly travelled light." He had fully expected her to have at least a dozen large suitcases full of her belongings, but that tiny suitcase looked like it barely had enough stuff to keep her going for a week.

"It will be fine for the time being. I will get more shipped if I need to." She said, sliding into the back seat of the car, saying thank you to the chauffer who held the door open for her. She had thought that he would be surprised at her packing abilities, and smiled smugly to herself. Over the years she had perfected the act of packing lightly. On most of her journeys she needed very little as it was, except of course on her modelling assignments when a vast wardrobe was essential.

They did not speak at all during the car journey. Christine was far too busy looking out of the window at the desolate countryside around her. Mountains either side of the road rose up into the clouds where their peaks could not be seen. It would seem that apart from walking she would have little to do here. She could only hope that there was some kind of town where he lived. To be in complete isolation would drive her mad. As they drove the rain began to abate slightly and the sun was peeking its head out from behind the clouds. Christine had to concede the place looked considerably better in the sun. Such a pity the sun never seemed to come here very often. Sure as she suspected, a mere five minutes later the sun had gone and the rain was battering against the window yet again. She was just about to ask if they were nearly there when they rounded a corner and a house loomed out of the mist ahead of them. Actually a castle may have been a better description. Christine did not ever have to ask whether it was their destination or not. The place positively screamed Erik. It was huge and gothic and creepy with many turrets and annexes. It was also well and truly in the middle of nowhere.

Upon exiting the car, Erik led Christine up a dozen stone steps to a massive oak front door. He still hadn't said a word since the flight and Christine was glad of it. He opened the door and she found herself in a hallway with black marble floor. The decor she could only describe as beautiful. A giant chandelier hung above them, its thousands of crystals glittering. Despite the room's size it was very cosy and well heated. She stripped off her coat and hung it on a coat stand by the door. Now she had done that she had no idea what to do. Erik who had walked off down the hall and through a door appeared to have abandoned her. The bastard wasn't even going to show her where she would be living. Muttering to herself she was just about to pick up her suitcase and find her own way around when a cheery, broad Scottish voice spoke from behind her.

"Ach don't mind him lassie. It's been a hard week." Christine turned to see a small plump woman, with rosy cheeks and short curly grey hair. She had clearly just come out of the kitchen as she was wearing a fuchsia coloured apron which was covered in flour. "Now you follow me and I'll show you where you'll be living."

Christine reached for her bag but the woman took it for her and carried it across the hall to the winding staircase at the other side. "I'll take that for you lassie. I'm Aileen by the way, and you must be Christine." She was very friendly and smiled at her warmly. Her presence immediately made Christine feel better. At least there was one person here who didn't despise her at first glance.

"Thank you Aileen. I didn't know how I was going to find my way just then."

"That's alright lass. So how was your journey? Did Mr grumpy give you a hard time?"

Seeing Christine nod, Aileen laughed. "Don't let him get to you. That's just his way."

So "his way" was to treat people like garbage was it? Just then, there was a wild scampering noise and a dog came running into the hall, its tail wagging furiously as it came clattering over to see the new guest. It was large, black furred and incredibly ugly. Christine adored it on sight.

"Hello!" She squatted down to rub the dog's ears." What's your name then? Aren't you lovely?" The dog barked happily and nudged her arm to get another stroke, one of its ears flopping over and the other sticking up in a point. He was adorable.

"Hades!" Erik's voice shouted, and the dog turned and scampered away, its claws slipping on the marble floor. Fancy calling such a sweet dog Hades, Christine thought with a laugh. Aileen lead Christine through the castle through many passageways and stair cases a tower she guessed must be at the far end of the house.

As Aileen showed her into the room she gasped. Never had she been in a more beautiful place in all her life. The lighting was dim and cast deep shadows over the furnishings. All the surfaces were a rich mahogany and there was a collection of extremely comfortable looking chairs by a roaring fire place under which was a very fluffy rug. . Everything was decorated in dark reds and browns and it was very welcoming. Over in the other corner there were even more comfy sofas and a giant television on the wall. Aileen led her through this luxurious living area and through a door which led to her bedroom. A huge four poster bed stood in the middle and the room was decorated a rich plum colour. Christine kicked off her sandals and sunk her feet into the dark, soft carpet.

"Is everything alright dear?" Asked Aileen as she placed her suitcase by the bed. "Your bathroom is just through that door there and if there is anything else you need just ask me."

"It's beautiful Aileen. I'll be fine, but thanks"

"Are you sure?" Aileen looked surprised. "There isn't anything I can get you or something you want to change?"

"I wouldn't change a thing. This is perfect." Her gaze swept around her. For an unfeeling bastard, Erik sure had good decorating taste.

"I hope you don't mind me saying this, but you're not exactly what I was expecting. Erik seemed to be under the impression that you would be a very difficult person to please. Said you would likely complain about everything, and cause a right fuss."

"I don't mind at all, Aileen." Christine laughed. "Your Lord and Master seems to be under a few misjudgements about me. He knows nothing about me so don't take anything he says seriously. Let's just say he has jumped to a few conclusions, none of which have any grounding in fact."

"Ah I see." Aileen smiled at her. "Well you seem lovely to me. Now I mean it you know. If you need anything at all just give me a shout. Now is there anything you particularly want for lunch?"

"Oh you don't need to go to any bother. If you show me the kitchen I can cook myself."

"Ach don't be silly lass. I got nothing else to do to tell the truth. How about I whip you up some sandwiches? We've just had a delivery of local smoked salmon."

"That sounds delicious. Thank you." Christine had only just realised how hungry she was. She hadn't eaten since breakfast and that was hours away now. "Actually, there is one thing I wanted to ask you. Is there a town near here, or are we in the middle of nowhere?"

"Has he told you nothing of where you are? Typical!" She scoffed. "Well this here Loch is Loch Maree and the nearest village is Lochcarron. It'll be about half an hour's walk from here, and that's downhill. Will be more like an hour coming up. It's a small village but it's got all you could need."

An hour walking uphill! Well it looked like her long put off exercise regime may actually work here, Christine thought.

"Thanks Aileen. You've been a great help."

"Don't worry yourself about it. Now you're to make yourself at home here. You're here for long enough and I want you to feel welcome."

Ha! Fat chance of that with Erik around, she thought scornfully. He would probably do everything in his power to make her as miserable as possible. At least Aileen hadn't prejudged her.

Aileen left Christine alone in her room and she began to unpack her bag. So Erik had been telling her how awful she was no doubt. She could just picture him spouting the rubbish he had assumed about her to his staff, trying to turn them against her. Well it clearly hadn't worked. Aileen had not judged her on what Erik had told her and she liked her immensely for this reason. At least she would have one friend in this God forsaken place. After she had finished unpacking her clothes into the large wardrobe she had a look in the bathroom. A huge clawed bath took pride of place on the centre of the room, and was raised up from the rest of the floor on a kind of plinth On the far end of the room was a huge window which took up nearly all the wall. She could see the mountains rising up in the distance with what looked like snow on their peaks. Down below the loch glittered in the sun, which it appeared had made another quick appearance. It really was quite a beautiful place she had to admit.

Once she had explored her rooms Christine began to feel impatient yet again. Perhaps she could go walking and try and find the town. This idea didn't grab her however. She could go and find the town at any point. Maybe she could explore the rest of the house. That would certainly annoy Erik, she thought with a grin. He had never exactly told her that she couldn't look around the rest of the house but something told her he wouldn't like it.

...

Erik paced back and forth in his study, Hades following his every move, his tail wagging furiously. For the dog it was a new and exciting game.

"Sit down." Erik said, impatiently. Hades ignored him and continued to follow him. No matter how hard he tried to train him, Hades could not be trained to do even the simplest of tricks and Erik had long since given up trying to teach him. Erik sat down by his desk and Hades flopped down next to him and curled up, obviously concluding that his master had given up on the game and a nap was in order. Erik pulled forward some papers and immersed himself in his work for the rest of the day, dismissing all thoughts of Christine and not caring what she was doing or that she was even in his house. In fact he didn't see her a good few hours. This whole arrangement was starting to work out just as he hoped. He only hoped the next six months passed by just as smoothly.

Erik was just considering taking a break when he heard a deafening crash coming from somewhere in the house. It sounded like a certain unwelcome house guest had discovered his music room, and had knocked over the drum set. He leapt up and stalked out of the room, Hades following not far behind. He should have made it explicitly clear that she was not to go wondering round his house, though he doubted very much that she would have listened to him.

He arrived in the music room to find a flustered looking Christine on the floor attempting to piece together the drum set. He closed the door on Hades who began to whimper and scratch at the wood.

"What do you think you are doing?" He said briskly, causing her to jump and drop the ride cymbal she had been carrying. It fell with an almightily clatter and began to spin around until Christine quickly stopped it.

"You scared me!"

"Give me that." He snapped, taking the cymbal from her and placing it back with the rest of the set.

"Sorry." She muttered. "I didn't mean to drop it. It just sort of tipped over."

"Yes it has a tendency to do that. I need to get the stand sorted." He said briskly.

"So you play the drums?" Christine asked smiling. Somehow Erik didn't strike her as the type to go crazy on a set of drums. They were for people who needed to vent their anger, and he certainly didn't have trouble doing anything of the sort.

"I can but I don't." He said. "I make them, along with all the others." He indicated around them to all the other musical instruments.

When Christine had first entered the room she had been sure she had entered some kind of musician's heaven. It seemed to her that every single musical instrument known to man was in that room, and all at varying stages of completion. She had never seen how instruments were made before and if truth be told never even thought about it. It was like a warehouse of music. She had just been about o pick up a beautifully made violin when she had knocked over the drum set. Groaning she realised that the noise must have carried all through the house and Erik would be along soon to investigate. She had never considered that Erik Destler was the famous maker of musical instruments, but now that she thought about it, it was obvious. It wasn't the most common of names after all. The Destler name was the most renowned and respected in the music business. Their instruments were the best of the best and always very expensive. She remembered her father had saved for years so he could buy a Destler violin, and had finally bought one when she was eight years old. Just one year before he died, she thought, feeling a pang of sadness. All of those years scrimping and saving for an instrument he could only use once or twice. It had been a beautiful instrument though, and ever since his death, Christine had dedicated herself to learning to play it. Though the few people she had played told her she was spectacular, she knew she would never be as good as her father. She felt another pang when she remembered that she had been forced to sell her father's beloved violin a few years ago. Knowing her father would have approved of her cause had made her feel better at the time, but she always felt some regret every time she thought of it. It really had been a spectacular instrument.

"This is beautiful." She said, picking up the violin she had spotted before. It was almost identical to her father's except that the wood was slightly darker in colour. She wanted to play it for it had been so long and she had missed it greatly, but there was no way she was going to when _he _was stood there staring at her as if she was suddenly going to smash it on the floor. She would not play her music if it was not going to be fully appreciated.

"Yes it is." He said, quickly taking it out of her hands and placing it back on its stand. "Now do you mind leaving; only I don't want my entire music room demolished?"

"I was just about to leave anyway." She huffed, strutting over the door. As she opened it, Hades sprang up and proceeded to jump up at her. "Hello boy." She gave him a hug.

Erik strode past her looking angry. What of earth was wrong with him this time? Was she not even allowed to stroke his dog? "I don't know how you put up with him, Hades." Christine buried her face in his soft fur, trying to stem the tears which she could feel coming. "You'll be my friend won't you?" He barked and wagged his tail in agreement. After a few moments, she straightened up. She needed to pull herself together and come to terms with where she was. This was to be her home for the next six months and like it or not she had to stay there. It didn't have to be six months in hell either. In many respects she was very lucky. She was staying in a beautiful gothic castle in a picturesque place, and her board was free. Many people would have killed to be in her shoes. It would have felt much better however if she didn't have to live with that infuriating man! If they could at least be civil to each other the whole process would be bearable she was sure. Erik was beyond trying to be civil to her however, and she knew that no matter what she did his attitude towards her would not change.

**Once again, I would like to remind you that reviews are very much adored (: **


	6. Meeting the locals

_Sorry about the delay in updating. My laptop had been having a few difficulties. A few days ago the screen decided to break and it keeps going black every few minutes. It is working at the moment so fingers crossed it won't break again. should be getting a new one soon though with i am very excited about. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this chapter. _

Chapter 6- Meeting the locals.

For the next week things for Christine could only be described as dull. She spent her days exploring the castle and its vast grounds. One day she even climbed one of the mountains and sat atop it for most of the day, just looking at the view. Hades had taken to following her around everywhere she went and had enjoyed this particular excursion immensely, enjoying chasing after a Frisbee as she enjoyed the view. She had been down into the village a couple of times but if truth be told it was not worth the effort. All it consisted of was a small shop, a post office, a church and a pub. It was as far away from Manhattan as it was possible to be. The rest of her time she spent perusing the vast library at the castle. The high ceilinged room was as beautifully furnished as the rest of the house, intricately carved stone pillars separated the bookshelves which housed hundreds of books. She had never read so much in all her life, but then again, she had never had much time for such a leisure activity. Now all she had was leisure time and it was starting to drive her insane. She was even starting to miss her arguments with Erik, whom she had seen nothing of in the past week. He was probably trying to avoid her much to her annoyance. Her encounters with him were anything but boring and she had half a mind to seek him out for an argument. There was something about their fights. Something which made her feel almost alive.

It was the evening of her seventh day in Scotland and she was down in the spacious kitchen cooking her supper. Christine had always loved cooking and since she had all the time in the world at present she was able to experiment far more than she ever had before. The kitchen had absolutely everything she could possibly want and once Aileen had caught Christine cooking earlier in the week she had insisted on buying anything else she might need. She was just about to sit down to eat her mushroom risotto when she felt the presence of someone stood behind her in the open doorway.

"You can have some if you want. I made far too much." She turned around to face Erik.

Erik was torn. Part of him wanted to turn back around and get out of there and away from her, but the other part of him was being drawn in by that intoxicating smell. Nothing that good had ever come out of this kitchen in all the years he had lived there. Aileen did her best, but if truth be told her cooking skills were somewhat lacking. As for himself, Erik had never so much as boiled an egg in all his life, and he had no desire to attempt it. Whatever Christine was making smelled like heaven.

"I'm fine." He said, not wanting to accept anything off this woman. Nevertheless, he found himself walking further into the room, being drawn in by that wonderful smell.

"Don't be ridiculous. It'll only go to waste." She reached up to the cupboard and pulled out a plate. "Take that." She pushed it into his hand. "You shouldn't waste food. Just eat it."

Reluctantly, he ladled out some of the risotto onto the plate, and sat opposite her at the large wooden table. There was silence as they ate, but Erik barely noticed. The smell of the food was as nothing compared to the taste. To think that such a heartless scheming woman could cook food which tasted like it was made by angels! He looked up and caught her looking at him, her mouth turned up at one side in a lopsided smile. For one second she looked almost endearing.

"You like it?" She looked slightly smug with herself. "Bet you thought I couldn't cook for shit."

"I am a little surprised. You don't exactly strike me as the type."

Christine's amused grin swiftly changed to a frown. "And what "type" did you think I was then? Actually no, don't tell me! I think I know exactly what you think of me. Well let me tell you something. You know nothing about me! So don't you dare presume to think you know me, because you don't!"

With that she picked up her now empty plate, yanked open the dish washer, rammed it in and slammed it shut, and stalked out of the kitchen. Erik hadn't even had the opportunity to argue back with her. He had merely acknowledged the truth he decided, and she did not like it one bit.

...

Half an hour later, Christine was back in her room, redoing her makeup using her small travel mirror propped up against her pillows. If there was one thing about Erik's home which she didn't like it was the lack of mirrors. There was not a single one in the house, and for someone who was used to seeing herself everywhere, it was very hard to cope with. She had already made sure one of the largest of her mirrors was on its way from America along with the rest of her belongings. For the time being however she had to make do with the travel one. Just then there was a light knock on the door.

"Can I come in dear?" Aileen stuck her head around the door. "You nearly ready to leave?"

"Yes, I'm nearly done." Christine said, as she applied mascara. "I'll be down stairs in ten minutes."

Tonight Aileen was taking Christine down to the village's only pub. Seeing as she was going to be staying here for quite a while, Aileen had thought it appropriate for her to meet the locals. Not having anything else to, Christine had agreed. After all, she may as well try to make a few friends here.

Around twenty minutes later, Christine rushed downstairs to meet Aileen. She did not seem bothered by her tardiness and merely laughed it off, telling her to calm down, and that they were in no rush. She drove them down there in a rather beaten up little car which had most definitely seen better days. Aileen was not one of the world's best drivers either and Christine found herself clinging on to her seat for dear life as they hurtled down the winding road to the village, skidding around corners and flying over bumps. By the end of the journey, Christine felt slightly sick.

"Righty ho, we're here." They screeched to a halt outside a very old and ramshackle looking building. A sign above the door read "The black horse". Christine could hear a great deal of noise coming from inside, much of it laughter. It looked like a jolly pub, and the kind of place where everybody knew everybody. When they went inside, Christine could barely see anything of the place; it was so packed with people. Aileen was immediately approached by a group of people who beckoned her over to their table. She dragged Christine over with her where they managed to grab some seats at a large table near the back of the pub. The group they joined looked like one of the biggest, made up of around fifteen people. Aileen introduced her to everyone and Christine swiftly forgot everyone's names. They all seemed very welcoming though and she didn't feel too uncomfortable with them.

"Can I buy you a drink?" A tall, brown haired man asked Christine, his strong Scottish accent was hard for her to understand. He was very attractive, with twinkling brown eyes. Christine smiled, feeling herself blushing. "Thank you. I'll just have a small white wine."

The man laughed heartily, shaking his head at her. "Ach no you won't. We'll have none of that wine business here. You'll have a pint of bitter."

Christine opened her mouth to protest, but he had gone. A few minutes later a pint of beer was sitting in front of her, froth from its top dripping down the glass and onto the table. Christine had always hated beer, but she gave it a small sip, hoping that her tastes had changed. She put the glass back down and grimaced. They hadn't changed at all. It was just as revolting as ever.

"I'm Mike." The man who had bought her the drink stuck out his hand to shake hers. "So you're the American staying up at the castle?"

"Yes, I'm Christine." She shook his hand. "So do you live here in the village?"

"Yeah, just down the road."

"That's convenient. I got a lift with Aileen. It takes about half an hour to walk down here."

"Well, maybe in the future you won't have to walk as far." He said with a wink. "If you play your cards right that is."

Smiling embarrassedly, Christine swiftly changed the subject. He was being a little to forward for her liking, if he had meant what she thought he did "What do you do then? Do you work in the village?"

"No, there's nowt to be made here. I work in the next town for their local newspaper. What about you?"

"I'm a model at the moment, but what I am most passionate about is..."

"Wow, a model!" Mike interrupted her. "Don't think we've ever had anyone of your sort here before. Ere John! This here lassie is a model!" He called down the table at another man.

John turned around and grinned at Mike. "Then she's definitely out of your league mate!"

Christine was a little annoyed that he had interrupted her, but chose to ignore it. Mike and all the others in the group seemed very friendly and Christine was having a great time. In fact she couldn't remember a time when she had laughed so much. They were a rowdy bunch but good natured. Hopefully she would make some good friends here after all. Mike was perhaps a little too overly flirtatious but it had been so long that she had been made to feel at all special by a man that she enjoyed it. There was no harm in a little flirtation every once in a while. It was hardly going to lead anywhere. No matter what problems she and Raoul were having, she did not cheat.

Christine couldn't help noticing that many of the people in the group kept throwing each other furtive glances; almost as if they desperately wanted someone to ask something which they themselves didn't dare ask. Eventually, Mike who it seemed was the leader of the group asked what everyone was dying to know the answer to.

"What's he like then?"

"What's who like?" Asked Christine, completely bemused as to who he was talking about.

"You know who." He grinned, tiny dimples showing in his cheeks. "The beast of Blython Castle." He said under his breath. "Aileen tells us nothing."

"You mean Erik?" Christine laughed at Mike's name for Erik, but inside she didn't actually find it that funny. He certainly was beastly towards her and she could see how he had attracted the name, and yet still she didn't like it. It was almost as if she was allowed to insult him but no one else was. How silly she thought. Erik most likely had no qualms about people insulting her. He would probably join in whole heartedly in whatever people had to say about her. "You've never met him?" She asked, surprised. She had thought that Erik had been living in the village for quite a few years.

"Na, only Aileen has, and I don't know what he's done to her, but she won't say a word against him." He jerked his hand over towards Aileen, who was deep in conversation with another man and could not hear them.

For some reason, Christine did not want to talk to him about Erik. For her to say what she thought of him to his face for one thing but to say it to someone else seemed so much worse. True, she despised him but she wasn't the kind of person to talk about someone behind their back, no matter how pig headed and arrogant they were! She wondered why he never came into the village. She supposed he thought himself far too important to mix with the village folk. It would be so typical of him, playing Lord of the manor up in his huge castle and getting Aileen to do all the things he thought beneath him. Lord Erik wouldn't lower himself to mix with the common village people.

"He's alright I guess. I don't see much of him to be honest."

"Well how do you know him? You some kind of relation?"

"Erm" Christine had no idea what to say. She could hardly tell him the truth. It would only invoke loads of questions which she didn't want to have to answer. "I knew his father. I wanted to visit Scotland and he said I could stay here." It wasn't a total lie. They had met through his father after all. She only hoped he didn't probe further. She had never been a very good liar.

Mike nodded, but didn't appear to be listening to what she was saying anyway. "I see. Is it true he wears a mask? Have you seen behind it?" He asked, looking fascinated.

"Yeah, but I haven't seen behind it. I doubt if anyone has." Christine was feeling slightly suspicious about him by this point. Why was he so interested in Erik? Perhaps it had something to do with him being a reporter. Nosiness was engrained in his nature.

At this point he leaned slightly further towards her. "Enough about him. What about you? Do you have a boyfriend?"

Christine felt a little shocked at the forwardness of the question, but didn't mind it. "Yes I do. He's called Raoul, and he lives back in America."

"Ah, he must be a fool to allow someone of your beauty to disappear for so long. I think you should dump him and go out with me instead." He grinned again, looking extremely cocky. Christine felt herself turning red, and began to giggle helplessly. She couldn't help but like his confident, cheeky personality and she found him very attractive. If only she wasn't with Raoul she would definitely fancy him.

"Don't be silly." She laughed.

"I'm not. I'm being serious." He wasn't smiling now, but staring at her intensely, his brown eyes boring into hers.

"I am sorry, but I do have a boyfriend, and I love him very much."

It was only when Christine said the words that she realised that they were a lie. This revelation shocked her into silence. She didn't love Raoul, and she doubted if she ever had. He was sweet and kind and supported her in her ambitions, and yet there was no spark left in their relationship. Any passion they may have had had long since fizzled out and there was nothing left between them except a friendly regard. Over the past week she had barely thought about him and only called him twice. Maybe it was time for them to go their separate ways and perhaps Mike was she one she was supposed to be with. He was certainly her type. He was tall, dark haired, and quite handsome in a way. He also seemed far more down to earth and easy going than her usual boyfriends.

"Whatever you say lass. Just let me know when it's over ok?"

Christine said nothing, not wanting to let him know that she liked him. She wanted it to be fully over with Raoul before she embarked on another relationship. How he knew she didn't love Raoul she couldn't fathom. Had it been written on her face for ages and it was only now that she herself had noticed it.

"You not drinking that?" He said, looking at her partially drunken pint.

"I hate beer." She said with a grimace. "You have it." She pushed it towards him, but he pushed it back.

"Just drink it. You will get used to it."

She took another tentative sip and pulled a face. It was disgusting. Wanting to be part of the crowd she took another sip however. If she held her nose it wasn't that bad. She took a large gulp and downed nearly half of the pint in around five seconds. For a moment after she felt as if she was going to be sick.

"Brilliant! Now that wasn't so bad was it?" Mike said, grinning. "I'll turn you into a beer drinker in no time."

Christine highly doubted it. It was just as disgusting as ever and she was starting to feel bloated. She would rather take her all time favourite drink of a raspberry mojito anytime.

Noticing that it was nearing half past nine, Christine gestured to Aileen, who was deep in conversation with an older man at the other end of the table. She was having a lot of fun and didn't want to leave but if she didn't leave soon she would be pushing it to be back by ten o'clock.

"Are you going?" Mike asked, looking disappointed. "It's early yet. Why not stay for one more drink?"

"I have to be back by ten."

"Why? Is that your curfew?" He asked, smiling.

_Oh if only you knew! _"No of course not. I just have to be up early tomorrow."

She said goodbye to everyone and she went out with Aileen towards the car. The poor thing had even more difficulty getting up the steep hill and Christine was afraid they would end up plummeting backwards at any moment.

"So, I see you were chatting to Mike a lot." Said Aileen as the car wheezed up the hill. "I'd watch out for that one if I were you."

"Why's that?" She asked feeling surprised. "He seemed perfectly nice to me."

"Oh he's nice alright. A right charmer he is. A little too charming if you ask me." Aileen said as she rammed the car into third gear, realised that it couldn't take it and went back to second. "All I'm saying is that he may not be quite what he seems. You deserve better."

"That's sweet of you Aileen, but I do have a boyfriend, and so I have no interest in Mike."

"You do? You never mention him. Well, that's alright then. Our Mike's a good lad really, but when he wants something, he doesn't easily give up on it. Remember that."

"Thanks Aileen. I will."

They arrived back in good time, a little before quarter to ten. Aileen dropped her off outside the castle's front door, and drove off back down the hill to her small cottage just one mile back down the road. Christine felt a little apprehensive as she used her key to open the door. She didn't want to have to bump into Erik again tonight. She was in no mood for an argument and just wanted to get back to her rooms and watch some television before going to bed. The one program she liked to watch was on tonight and she was looking forward to curling up in one of her comfy chairs and watching it with some hot chocolate. A few minutes later she was doing just that, her mug of hot chocolate was working wonderfully at getting the revolting taste of the beer out of her mouth. The television show she was watching was one about the history of opera through the past century, something she had always been passionate about. Perhaps it was because of her father, but music, most especially opera was a very important part of her life.

...

Erik was watching as he saw Aileen drop Christine off from his study window. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw them say goodbye. He had been pacing back and forth for the past half hour wondering where she was, and what she was playing at. Christine knew full well that she needed to be back before ten and she was deliberately staying out until the last moment to aggravate him. He would have to have a stern word with Aileen tomorrow and make sure she didn't allow Christine to stay out this long if they went out again. Even when he couldn't see her, this woman had the power to drive him crazy. He hated that she was able to strut off into the world which he did not dare enter without a second thought. She would have made friends with all the locals down that pub of Aileen's straight away. Someone of her beauty would never have the problems he experienced every day of his life. Almost ten years he had lived in the village and he had only ever been down to it in the dead of night, for he knew someone like him would never be accepted into the local fold. No, it was far better to stay hidden away from their scorn and they could speculate about him as much as they wanted to. Yet no matter how many times he told himself he was not bothered by his choice it would not change the truth of the matter. It did bother him, and far more so than he would ever admit. For the one thing Erik wanted more than anything else was to be accepted as he was. This was a ridiculous hope however. Someone like him had as little hope of gaining acceptance as there was a chance of him and Christine becoming inseparable companions. In other words, not a chance in hell.

**Please review and I will try to get the next update out sooner than this one. If my computer doesn't decide to give up on life that is! **


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